The Watcher
by Kaoz
Summary: Just a little fun I couldnt help sharing with a friend and this is how we made it come to life. Its only a slight xover by mention.


**_AN:** I couldnt help myself and this is just alittle something that came out of left field. Thanks to **_**_deanstheman** I dont suck. So a huge thank you for your help and everyone else enjoy the ride. =)**_

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><p>John looks to the bathroom door where she's standing in just a towel. He takes a good look –cus what man wouldn't, right? The towel is regular motel issue so it's on the small side, ending just as her thighs begin. Her skin is glistening from the steam coming out of the bathroom, dark hair still wet and splayed across her shoulders in curled, inky strands.<p>

"You're still bleeding," he manages, noticing the raw, red gash peering out of the towel. "Sit down."

His voice is gruff and he struggles to keep his eyes from lingering too long, struggles not to think about what else is under the towel cus he just shouldn't think of her like that – she's what, twenty-one? Twenty-two? And what the hell is wrong with him? Because he's old enough to be- John stops his thinking right there.

"Are we playing doctor?" She tries for sarcasm to cover her nerves. She's definitely not telling him it was a close call and she's lucky to have the gash on her thigh as the only reminder. Then again, it took her two days to heal from the other reminders of her own mortality. And why she came to John in the first place- because she damn well owns a first aid kit… She doesn't protest the order either, no other smart ass remarks she feels like tossing at his back.

John ignores her comment and saunters over to his duffel, his bare feet silent and light on the drab, brown carpet. She sits on the edge of the bed, watching as he gets his first aid kit and heads back, wordlessly lowering himself to his knees in front of her. John tells himself there's nothing wrong because all he's doing is tending to her wound just like she's done for him on a few occasions, like they've done for each other before now.

Zayre is very aware of his touch as he cleans the cut and applies antibiotic cream – with her Slayer healing abilities, she won't need stitches. She can't help thinking he's very gentle and the callused hands feel good against her moist skin. She follows the path his fingers take over her thigh, breath held as he moves the swab over the torn skin though the pain is secondary.

She takes a really good look at him as he works, almost surprised to find an attractive older man tending to her cut. It's strange just because its not a regular thing and this side of John is… Well, she likes him, likes the gruff quietness of him. Hell, she even likes John grumpy because the man is almost always in a bad mood. And still … He makes her feel at ease, she's comfortable with John, trusts him… trust that comes from knowing he's the type that never leaves a man behind and that's not just the Marine drilled into him but a part of John as a person. They're practically strangers and yet Zayre knows enough without digging into his past. He's given her the same respect and that's more than most people.

She hides a smirk, thinks a shrink would jump right in saying Zayre's got Daddy issues. But she's got issues period and why wouldn't she? She's the Slayer. She's been chased by crazy ass scary monsters for the past three years and she's well aware that's way too long for any Slayer. Long enough Zayre can feel her time slipping away, like its sand dribbling through her fingers and no matter how much she tries closing her hand into a fist about what's left there isn't anything at all.

Both of them are acutely aware she's just in a towel, the older hunter making an extra effort to hide his stirring reactions. John moves to get up as soon as he's done but Zaire hooks her foot behind his leg and pulls him to his knees where John braces both hands on the squeaking mattress.

"Zayre …" His breath fans her face, they're that close. Her small hands splay on his chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his outer shirt. John barely has time to think of removing himself, the message from his brain extremely slow in getting to the rest of his limbs. She kisses him suddenly and John tries to pull away but she's far stronger than him. He's seen her flex that Slayer muscle more than once and quite a few times to his advantage. John isn't sure how that's working for him at the moment because her lips are soft and he likes it but he pulls away again, more forcefully this time.

"It's okay," she assures him, allowing John only enough distance he can look in her eyes.

"We..."

"Are consenting adults," Zayre finishes, pulling off his button up shirt, lips lightly pressing on his again. "I consent."

She slips her hands under his t-shirt, presses up against John's chest. His hands automatically fist in the coverlet on either side of her in an obvious attempt at restraint, trying to avoid touching her but she nips at his mouth, not giving up. The whisper of her voice still in his ear and what she's asking…

She takes his left hand and puts it on her right, uninjured thigh.

He flinches, fingers involuntarily clamping on her thigh in reflex.

Zayre doesn't understand why it has to be so difficult; it shouldn't take any convincing to get a guy in bed so why the hell was John being so stubborn? She thinks maybe she isn't doing things right? Must be her inexperience…but the first guy hadn't complained - well, after he got over the fact he'd 'deflowered' her, anyway.

Her lips press persistently against his, her tongue gliding invitingly along his bottom one. At least in this she's confident in doing right. He closes his eyes and stops resisting, convincing himself it's only for a moment, opens his mouth in response just enough to allow her tongue entrance. John groans when the full effect finally hits him, a deep breath filling him with the scent of camellias and then the lighter mix of currants and vanilla. He wonders if the rest of her will taste as sweet…

She tugs on his wrist slipping his hand higher, just under the towel and John keeps going, calloused fingers squeezing and caressing as they glide upwards. He thinks maybe he'll just go along with it, for her sake – to keep her happy…

His hands glide over her hips, slip up to rest in the curve of her waist. A pleased sounding rumble echoes deep in his chest and he kisses her harder, making Zayre happy he's finally participating. She slides her hands around his neck, fingers twirling in the wisps of hair at the nape and presses forward. It's clear what she wants and he tugs on her towel. The knot slips loose, the damp cotton falling on the bed and he groans at the sight of her. He cups her ass, leans into Zayre and gives her a deep, proper kiss.

There is no turning back now…

He runs both hands up her back and around, enjoying the softness of her skin. John likes to do things right, has always drilled it into his boys to take pride in a job well done… John takes it slow and gives her naked body a very thorough exploration with both his hands and tongue. Her breasts are full and pert, with dusky nipples and a good fit in John's hand. Zayre squirms to the edge of the bed, fists her fingers into John's hair and tugs him away from her neck. He gets the hint and speeds things up, just a little rough with the love bites when he notices she likes that.

Sweet victory.

Zayre is making serious happy noises, biting her lip in anticipation as his touch travels lower. Strong, forceful hands on her hips stop her squirming. John dips his fingers between her legs, sliding them back and forth through her wetness. He already knew she'd be wet – there had been no mistaking that dark, musky scent of arousal from the moment she'd hooked him. He caresses, teases, with long strokes, slow and firm, his mouth nibbling and sucking on her breasts.

"Hhhuhh, John?"

Her voice is husky and breathless, hips moving to his rhythm. She hooks her heels on his ass, legs opening wider to give him more room, the invitation clear. John breathes a pleased smirk around the nipple in his mouth and curls his middle finger, sliding it deep inside her warmth. He's enjoying every second, every taste of her, the sound of her, the feel of her …

She gasps and arches backwards, fingers clenching in the bedspread beneath her, unrestrained moans escaping her lips. His mouth moves to her neck and he bites down when he feels her react, her muscles clamping around his finger. He responds by moving faster, fists a handful of her hair and tugs her head further back. She's a snug fit and he finds his breath quickening as he slides in and out faster and faster.

Zayre is squirming again, her hands now curled into his shirt, panting and moaning. John adds a second finger and curls them inside her as he moves them in and out. He bites her shoulder as Zayre cums, juices flowing freely over his hand and a loud scream released into his ear. The faint sound of tearing material barely registers and he feels her skin against his as she clings to his chest, panting as she comes down.

Her head rests on John's shoulder while she tries to slow her breathing. John kisses her, softly and tenderly; just this once he's not holding back, pretending he's made of stone. He figures for just a few minutes he can let his armor fall away and allow himself to care because he really does. This girl has become a fixture in his crazy life no matter the brevity of each encounter or the situation they are in.

But this… this is a first.

He runs his hands up and down in a gentle caress to calm her. Finally, he moves to get up but Zayre's not having it.

"That wasn't enough John."

He can't help but chuckle at the ferocious glint in her eyes and bossy tone. Zayre is fast and has John unbuckled before he can catch her wrists.

"Hold on there."

"Me naked. You clothes." Zayre drops the belt and gets his zipper down but calloused fingers stop her there. "That's not fair," she pouts. There's a little frown furrowing her brow and the full lips look rosy and well kissed.

She's got her fingers tucked into his waistband, dark gray eyes on his and it has John thinking of thunder storms, the way her eyes seem to spark with liquid silver- just nature at its wildest and she's not far from that, from those rare and amazing displays of nature and he's got her all to himself… how'd John manage that?

"Let's even things out."

They both know he's giving in and yet John doesn't find it difficult to do, not as much as he'd told himself when she first stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but that sorry excuse for a towel and forgot all about the shirt he was supposed to have lent her…

John tosses his t-shirt, now trash since she ripped it and Zayre has his pants and boxers pooled around his knees. She checks him out- comparing him to the first guy but he seems just as wide and long so she wonders if this is regular guy size cus she heard some of the girls at college complain about small dicks.

Zayre reaches out and runs her fingers along the length, curious and watches it spring back at her- the thought crosses her mind that maybe John's a little too big, she remembers the first time hurt but it was better after that and the guy was nice. They'd both had fun and she learned some things….

John watches as she amuses herself. Zayre's hand is small on him but she's a small thing anyway and that's misleading because she packs one hell of a punch. She's playing, her hand's warm and he's enjoying her touch. Eventually he leans into Zayre, their lips pressing together, hungry kisses that fuel whatever it is building up between them. John grabs her thighs, fingers digging into her soft flesh. She guides him towards her heat but John makes her wait, teasing her with slow, shallow dips. Zayre pulls on his waist; insistent then reaches up and yanks on his hair, in annoyance or frustration. Either way John is surprised he likes her roughness and reacts by thrusting forward, sinking himself all the way inside her. He groans into her mouth, she's so hot and tight.

Zayre makes a slightly pained sound with her sharp intake of breath. She wasn't expecting to feel all of him at once and remains still but the discomfort doesn't abate. She squirms a little, still uncomfortable with the fullness of him inside of her. John pulls out and she exhales in relief. He repeats the hard, forward thrust a few more times, makes her moan with the sudden onslaught of sensation, then sets a slow, steady pace.

Zayre finds his rhythm and begins to match his pace, her head falling back in blissful pleasure. John shifts his weight up, pulling her into his arms under him and never stops moving in and out of her as he lays her flat on the bed. He tosses the towel on the floor behind him and steps out of the jeans around his ankles, pressing down on top of her as his hips meet hers in a faster and faster pace. She's bucking upwards to meet him now, panting, fingers wrapped around his biceps so hard they're sure to leave bruises.

John can feel she's close as her breaths get shorter and her moans get louder. He reaches down between them, presses a finger against her wetness and circles it frantically. He watches Zayre climax beneath him, arching her back, sweaty chest pressing against his and he struggles to hold past her release, gritting his teeth in restraint.

Zayre is surprised she came so quickly. John Winchester has some serious skills and maybe those girls in the dorms were right about older men being better lovers...

She blinks up at John, this adoring and awed look in her eyes and he's caught off guard by it, by Zayre and what they've shared. He tries to escape, once more thinking he shouldn't have let it happen and crawls backwards to move his weight off her, ignoring the little furrowing of her brow and confusion that flickers in her eyes.

Zayre isn't having it. She's not about to get the brush off because that's exactly what John will do given half the chance and she isn't some cheap drunk woman he picked up in a bar or wherever it is that John finds somewhere to scratch his itch though she's never known him to pick up women, charming as he can pretend to be when he wants something.

Zayre flips them over and frowns down at him confused.

"You haven't…" she bites her lip then tries again. "Why won't you … you know?"

Zayre can't help blushing and John finds it amusing that she gets embarrassed talking about sex when she's naked and straddling him. He finds his hands disobeying his command to stay still, fingers curling over her thighs and slowly moving up around her hips. Her skin is warm, smooth under his hands…

"We aren't using a condom," he explains like it's the only concern when he knows damn well there's something about this girl that draws him. Maybe it's the tragic truth of her short life, the fact she's living on a timer that could stop at any moment and yet she can find something beautiful in each day she does get.

"Oh." Zayre averts her gaze but shrugs off his concern. "That's ok," she assures him.

"No - ." John's frowning; he's not about to risk leaving her with something extra. Neither of them can afford it with their line of work and three kids is definitely enough for him. Once again he gets that guilty churning in his gut for his lies but the petite girl in his arms has his full attention.

She cuts him off with; "I mean we don't need one. I'm covered."

John raises an eyebrow. "You – since when?"

The words are out before he realizes and John doesn't want to think how that sounds like some jealous boyfriend, or worse, like an overbearing parent. Yeesh! That so doesn't even bear thinking of cus they're not even a couple - they don't even have a relationship, well, not a personal one… Well it's sort of personal, because they work together but it's not a romantic personal relationship… John decides right then he's thinking way too much about what they are and what they aren't and he's gonna stop his mental rambling.

Zayre lays down on John, resting her chin over her folded hands on his chest. She can tell he's having some moral dilemma and figures a little bit of honesty is going to get her what she wants a lot faster.

"Up until a couple a months ago, I was still a virgin," she admits softly. Maybe a little embarrassed to admit that it took her this long and now that she's joined the masses that she would jump into bed with him without any prior conversation or courtship but this is John Winchester. He doesn't do 'courtship', doesn't do anything but hunt and Zayre has no expectations. She knows full well there isn't a 'happy ever after' for her.

John certainly doesn't expect that. Didn't think a young woman her age… especially one who looks like her…well, he figured maybe… aw hell.

"You're the second man to ever touch me, John." She smiles at him, this innocent sort of smile as she leans up and manages a light touch of her lips on his. Maybe just a tad shy and John feels himself respond to that.

"Why?"

His puzzlement is genuine, because really, she's a beautiful young woman and obviously wouldn't have trouble finding someone to…to uhm- No, he doesn't want to picture _that_.

Zayre answers between kisses, hands starting to explore the wide expanse of his chest and lower around their joined hips. "I didn't want to die a virgin."

John grabs her upper arms, pushing her up and holds her firmly. "I'm… am I part of your bucket list?" he demands, incredulous.

Zayre opens her mouth, slightly annoyed and surprised but she can see where he'd get the idea and finally chuckles at the ridiculous suggestion. She tries again to reach his lips with hers but he forcibly holds her still and she sighs.

"There's no bucket list, John. I'm the Slayer."

And that should be enough explanation. She's already told him more than anyone outside of the Council should know about Slayers and he knows they die young.

"Quit stalling me." She brushes his hands aside, giving up the pretence that he's stronger than her and starts to move her hips in small circles, hands flat on his chest.

John's resolve wavers when she wiggles her ass on top of him and he gives in, no longer holding back. There really isn't any reason to or even a point to saying 'No' this late. John wants her, wants to hear her once more as she reaches her climax. His hands slide into the curve of her waist and he sits up, calloused fingers running up her sides and back, mouth on her skin tasting and leaving love bites he knows will fade away before morning.

Zayre is surprised but gets the hang of it quick, tipping her head to the side to give him access to her neck. She feels the pressure of his teeth and pants his name with each bite. When he's done there he moves his hot mouth down her collarbone to her chest, teeth firmly nibbling as her breath quickens once again.

Her needful moans mix with his low growl when John suddenly pulls her ankles behind him to hook around his waist. Zayre is confused but then John's hands cup her ass and he lifts her, lowering her down on him slowly. Zayre's a little surprised he's doing the work, this is something new to her, but as he fills her up she gets the full effect. It's unexpected and she likes it, gasps and digs her nails into his shoulders. He lifts her up again and pulls her back down with a hungry grunt. It hurts a little but that's what feels good.

John picks up the pace, pushing and pulling her in a steady rhythm and Zayre's glad to see he's not holding back. She doesn't want to compare and won't even think about what she did that first time with a complete stranger. This time its John… She's got her arms around his broad back, rocking her hips forward to match his forceful thrusts, when she glances over his shoulder to the window and notices there's some strange guy standing there. She's not sure how long they've had an audience and her brain freezes but before she can form any thoughts let alone words to tell John that some weirdo is getting off watching them; John flips them over and slams her down, her back on the mattress. He hooks one arm under her knee and pushes her leg up onto his shoulder, giving a pleased groan at her flexibility. His next thrust goes deep and Zayre gasps, all thoughts of the Peeping Tom momentarily disappearing.

John is oblivious to anything around him except for Zayre, lost in how incredibly tight and wet she is. He slams into her harder and harder, fully enjoying his part in their exercise.

They're both getting louder, this position another first for Zayre and she is amazed at how good it feels. She turns her head towards the window and sure enough, the man is still there only he's rubbing at his sack over his jeans. Zayre can't believe herself but it actually turns her on even more. The guy is young, maybe her age, and she can't help notice he's good looking with a nice build. He's staring at them and she moans loudly, can't help it, likes the dirtiness of it.

Spurred on by her volume, John slams into her a few more times, sending her spiraling past the brink and she fists her hands in the sheet, arching her back upwards as she orgasms. Her eyes lock with the stranger in the window, his reaction to such an intimate moment just one more thing Zayre can enjoy.

This time John is right there with her, feeling like he's gonna have a heart attack he likes it that much. The pair collapses in a tangle of limbs on the bed, panting and sweating. John's full weight dwarfing Zayre's smaller frame but she easily manages it, her soft whisper in his ear saying she likes that too.

Sam Winchester had been heading back to his and Dean's motel room down the row when he heard an unmistakably female voice floating out of the slightly open window of his Father's room as he passed it. He couldn't help but glance through the gap in the curtain and was stunned at what he saw; his Father kneeling at the edge of his hotel bed, a long mane of dark hair the only thing obstructing his view on the brunette wrapping her legs about his Father's waist. Sam found himself unable to tear his eyes off the sight. His pants tightened on him immediately and he was alarmed to find himself bone hard at the sight of them. He's more than slightly disturbed by this because it's _John_ but the girl is hot and he's got a perfect view of her. He admires the glowing body; her lithe form twisted and splayed under his Father's bucking hips as he lays her back on the bed. Sam knows she saw him and she's not saying anything, clearly enjoying herself, enjoying the thrill of him watching…

If she's enjoying it, Sam is gonna stay. He doesn't even realize he's rubbing himself until the pair orgasm together and he almost loses it right there in his jeans. The window fogs up, his breaths short and raspy and quickly wipes at the glass. He watches as John slips off the little brunette, drawing her with him so she's laying half on his chest, giving Sam a perfect view of her backside.

"Enough now?" John's voice is deep and Sam swears his Dad is smiling. That's another disturbing thought for him to think about later because John Winchester smiling is a rare sight and yet this girl is graced with one? He wonders how long they've known each other or if she's a perfect stranger his Father just fucked.

"Not even close," she answers playfully.

Sam doesn't want to watch but he can't look away from her and the hand she cups on John's sack, _knowing_ she's being watched. She crawls her body downwards, slowly, deliberately sexily, planting wet kisses down John's chest and navel. As she flicks her tongue around John's tip, sliding her wrapped fingers up and down his re-hardening length, she spares a split second glance at the window, catching Sam's eye for the briefest of instants. Sam sees her lips curl into a smile before they sink down around John and he stifles a groan. He can tell she's getting off on having him watch her giving head and he can't help it, he finds it incredibly hot.

Sam tucks his hand in his pants under his shirt to play; hoping like hell Dean keeps flirting with that chick in the office and doesn't interrupt. He watches Zayre's lips sliding up and down, leaving a glistening trail behind her, his Dad's hands fisting in her hair. Sam imagines those lips are around _him_ and not John, licking up the sides of _him_ and taking _him_ in her mouth, his hand mimicking in his pants her actions.

Zayre licks up the shaft, whips her damp hair behind her, giving the guy at the window a better view of her pink tongue flicking at the engorged head. Sam tightens his grip, rolling his thumb across his tip, mouth open in a slight pant as she keeps going.

Zayre takes John in again and again, squeezes her fist at his head and twists her wrist as she goes down, scraping gently with her teeth as she comes back up. John tips his head back on the bed, starts to make serious happy noises as she works him. His hand is still fisted in her hair; he guides her up and down, urging her to pick up the pace.

Sam sees the girl look up, her dark grey eyes meeting his and this time holding the gaze as her full lips sink back down on John. Sam should be ashamed, he should be running away, but instead he pulls himself out of his jeans to show her how hard he is, what she's done to him…

Zayre's breath hitches at the sight but she doesn't stop caressing John. She can't believe herself, would never have thought of herself doing something like this, but she finds she likes it. She gives John one last lick before pulling off and crawling up his legs. John runs his hands up her ribs to cup her breasts, and she smiles down at him, cupping her small hands over his much larger ones. His thumb and forefinger pinch the dusky nipples already hard watching her tongue peek out of her parted lips. Zayre raises her hips and positions him, tipping her head back as she sinks down on him slowly.

Sam groans as he watches her take John in, hand pumping himself faster. He wishes it was him she was riding, wants to feel her warm, wet tightness around him, squeezing him and milking him. He licks his lips and his breath quickens even more.

John draws his knees up for Zayre to lean back on, moves a hand between her legs and presses his thumb where she's the most sensitive.

What he's doing feels good and Zayre throws her head back, cries out at his sudden upward thrusts. John deliberately glides his hands over her hips and down her thighs pushing her legs further apart. Zayre braces her hands on his knees and lifts herself, both moving slowly, gazes locked.

Sam's pressing on the window now, his forehead and a very sweaty palm up against the glass as his other hand pumps his sizeable length frantically.

John uses her thighs to pull himself up; the sudden move catches Zayre unaware. Her mouth, open on a gasp isn't wasted as John captures the startled breath that quickly becomes a moan. She clings to John, to the feel of his wide shoulders and the heat of his skin sliding against hers. He trails his tongue down to her throat, a rough hand slapping on her ass and Zayre sits up at the pleasant yet unexpected sting. John lies back, a cocky grin on his face that turns to a slight grimace with the next thrust of her hips. He watches Zayre run those small hands up her sides slowly and up to cup her breasts. Her eyes are half closed, hooded, but she can still see out the window and sure enough, the guy is still there.

The look on his face is so intense it sends a quiver through Zayre's body. John is thrusting up into her, hard and fast, making Zayre bounce on top of him. The force and feel of him pounding inside her over and over is overwhelming and she closes her eyes, the man outside forgotten once more.

John reaches his breaking point first, releasing inside her with a loud rumbling moan. He keeps going through it, increasing the swirling motion of his thumb between her legs until she joins him, throwing her head back and clenching her muscular thighs on his waist. Spasms rock through her and John certainly feels every one. She finally finishes and he breathes raggedly, hands slowly caressing her thighs as she relaxes. He hopes they're both done now; even slayers can't keep going like the energizer bunny.

Right?

Zayre blinks, eyes on the window and notices their audience is gone. She sees a stain on the window and that the peeping man's panting has fogged up the glass. There's nothing but a slight breeze left and in the fading fogged spot an indecipherable word Zayre knows will bug her just because it was there.

"Enough?" John's low voice snaps Zayre's attention back to John. She looks at him through her dark lashes, just a little embarrassed by what she's not going to tell him – the Peeping Tom – and then there's the whole 'I threw myself at you' but he certainly put forth enough effort he can't say he didn't want her as well.

"That depends," she smiles.

John runs his hands up her sides as she lazily leans forward to lay down on his chest.

"Depends on what?" He's curious, and yes, more than a little concerned at where she might be going especially with that look he saw- that adoring expression on her face as he lay on top of her… John's fingers play in her tangled hair. Still damp from her shower and John tries not to picture her glistening from the water as she stands beneath-

"Is this a one time thing?" Zayre stretches, hands slipping under his shoulders and her lips are soft on his, giving him a lazy, satisfied kiss of contentment.

John kisses her back, considers what she's asking. He certainly is tempted to repeat the experience, can't say he regrets it but … But he has to be realistic. It's not smart. They can't, simple as that because their simple arrangement wouldn't be simple anymore. Sure he doesn't mind calling her in when he needs the muscle but he only does so when there's no other way and just because she's uber strong and has training doesn't mean John isn't worried about her getting hurt. Adding sex… well, that's eventually going to become an issue. It always does.

Nope, they just can't.

Zayre sighs at his silence because that's answer enough and she gets the hint. She didn't expect much more and hoping their relationship won't change is just naïve.

"Okay, no then."

She eases off his chest to lie down beside him. Her head resting in the crook of his arm where she can hear the steady beating of his heart. "But you can take a nap," she adds to the silence.

John chuckles, she's a smart ass, feisty - he likes that. He pulls her close into his side; hand on her ass because he just can't help touching her. He has that right for now and he's going to exercise it. His fingers lazily run up and down on her warm skin drawing invisible patterns as he thinks.

John figures the smartest thing will be to sneak out early, leave her sleeping and wonders how the hell he's gonna sneak out on a Slayer.

_And_ … if he did, if he made it out of the hotel room without Zayre noticing… then it'd be in his best interest to stay away from her for a while, let her anger subside for being left like she was nothing more than passing fancy… John frowns but what else can he do? And he won't be calling her for any help if he can help it. He sighs and kisses her softly, part of him not wanting her to fall asleep, for this moment to end. Zayre has the same thought and the soft kiss slowly becomes more…

Sam is slightly ashamed, though maybe not as much as he thinks he should be. He cleans himself and tucks back into his jeans watching Zayre stretch out cat like next to John. He wants her thigh resting on _his_ hips not John's, wants to be the one running lazy fingers down that smooth, curvy hip, but she doesn't look his way again, like she never saw him at the window. He sighs and goes off to find his brother, replaying the show in his head, only in his version it's _him_ and not John she's blowing.

The end.

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><p><strong><em>AN: Bet you didnt see that one coming at ya, huh? Sammy just gives that vibe. =P<em>**


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